marlene whittier

Bikers - Poem by marlene whittier

Two stroke, four stroke, it matters
Taking off, stones fly, mud spatters.
Helmets a must, protecting my head
I crashed once, not dead.
Trails a must with mountains a need.
A friend along, oh deed.
Passing you by, but not for long
Your bike a little bigger, wizzing by...gone.
I'll get ya on the return
Again wrong....left behind... burn
Time not existing in this wheel of fortune
The soul awaiting for the next time tortching

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 10, 2008

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